Walt Disney Meets Virginia Lee Burton
To help alleviate the fear brought on by World War II, and keep the public updated on current events and issues, the United States government turned to Walt Disney. At the very same time, a 33 year old author and illustrator named Virginia Lee Burton was serving her country as well. In 1942, her newly published children’s book, The Little House, had captured the hearts of people of all ages. “At the time it was published, The Little House comforted children distressed by the uncertainties of World War II” shares Barbara Elleman, author of Virginia Lee Burton: A Life in Art (Elleman, 2002). A native of Massachusetts, Burton’s inspiration for The Little House stemmed from her own experiences, and the beauty and challenges that life can bring.
This posting is not meant to cover the life of Virginia Lee Burton, but focuses on her meeting Walt Disney instead, and the events that followed after. Although the exact year is not known to this author, according to Elleman, “Walt Disney personally invited Burton to California to talk about making a film of the Caldecott Medal-winning book, royally wining and dining her (Elleman, 2002)…” When it came down to business however, Disney directly made a deal with the book’s publishing company, obtaining licensing rights to The Little House for a mere $1,000 (Elleman, 2002). The deal needless to say put a bad taste in Burton’s mouth, and the finished Disney product in 1952 didn’t do much to improve things.
Virginia Lee Burton’s The Little House continues to be an American classic in the world of children’s literature, and her illustrations are nothing short of precious. As an educator, one of my greatest joys is sharing this timeless book with my students, and listening to their interpretations of Burton’s work. The ideas they share do not necessarily stem from her text, but from her vivid illustrations. The change of time and the dawning of industry in The Little House are even apparent to the youngest of my pupils. Barbara Elleman elaborates, “The circular patterns that flow through the first thirteen pages, shaped to fit the page, suggest the harmonious values of country life. When change occurs, diagonal lines and drab grays and browns portend the coming industrialization (Elleman, 2002).” Burton’s choice of colors burst from the pages of her book as each season changes, and the presence of time is evident in every detail of her drawings. With the beauty of her illustrations and the weaving of her words, the reader connects emotionally with the little house as they watch the city limits move in, casting its darkness around the tiny structure. The story itself is so rich, and begins and ends in the happiest of places - on a little hill way out in the country.
I recently read this story to my current third grade class, and then showed them Disney’s version. This study was an interesting one for me because it’s amazing to see how both versions of the story still stand up to the test of time. As I read Burton’s story, my students were transfixed by her illustrations and remained silent during the entirety of the book. When the little house was safely snuggled into the lush countryside, a handful of my students smiled contently. As the city loomed closer and closer to the little pink house, and metaphorically swallowed her whole, a few shared in her loneliness and sadness. Her return to the country eased the tension in their faces and hope was restored in their expressions.
The Disney version yielded a lot of the same responses, however some of them quite different. With any form of animation, especially Walt Disney’s, “the illusion of life” can quickly grab the attention of any child. As the animated short began, I could tell that a few of my students were already noticing differences between the stories. Disney’s little house was not the little pink and curvy house depicted in Burton’s illustrations, but was instead more angular and Victorian in appearance. There’s a scene in Disney’s version where children deface the house with red paint and even shatter one of its window panes. This scene got a laugh from a selected few, but I could tell some were taken back by this slight change of story. As the city limits closed in on the little house, sidewalks and lampposts rose from the ground like flowers and buildings were forcefully erected like mighty oaks. In various scenes, looming towers catch on fire, slightly burning the little house, while others are destroyed by wrecking balls, chipping away part of the little structure’s chimney. Much like Burton’s ending, the little house makes it back to the country to perch upon her little hill.
When I asked my students to vote on their favorite version, ten chose Burton’s original work and eleven chose Disney’s. This I feel is a testament to a child’s brutal honesty. Master storyteller Bill Peet (along with Bill Cottrell) was responsible for adapting Burton’s story, and in his autobiography he described her original work as “a gem of a book (Peet, 1989).” The prolific Mary Blair, as described by animation historian, John Canemaker, served as art director to the short film (Canemaker, 2003). Despite the creative leadership of these artistic forces, I personally feel Disney’s version pales in comparison. In fact, after viewing the studio’s take on the tale, Virginia Lee Burton herself was extremely disappointed by the change of text and images, and “she felt that using a bride and groom at the story’s beginning and end moved it beyond the young audience she had worked so hard to capture (Elleman, 2002)." Nearly half of my third graders seem to agree. In Burton’s defense, one can understand the heartache she must have felt as she watched her story change before her eyes. As much as I enjoy many aspects of the Disney version, I can’t take Sterling Holloway’s narration seriously, and several of the story adaptations, especially the children vandalizing the house, don’t settle well with me. I often wonder if Disney’s version would have looked better being filmed in the same style as the studio’s 1937 animated short, The Old Mill; dialogue absent and driven by music. To her credit, Mary Blair however does an exquisite job at making the house seem extra pathetic and lonesome in her preliminary paintings, and as always, her art is so unique. In a lot of ways, Bill Peet’s version holds true to Burton’s, however several of the additions fall flat for me.
It’s only fair to consider both sides of the situation however, and in Disney’s defense, if you completely separate their story from Virginia Lee Burton’s, it is a rather charming little tale. I won’t deny that I grew up loving Burton’s work, and therefore I am somewhat biased. Despite my favoritism, I still have Disney flowing through my veins, and I cannot deny the quality of the studio’s work. The city’s invasion of the countryside is very effective, and the presentation of sheer scale and depth among the little house and the ominous towers work very well. I also enjoy the use of shadow and light in Disney’s story. The city heights hide the sun from the world, and the only source of light is emitted from building windows or the orange glow of fire. The use of warm colors in the countryside and cool colors in the city compliment the various moods of the story. Limited animation for use in the countryside and the chaos it brings to the inner city clearly represents the movement of each locale. To compliment Burton’s version, the use of personification is fantastic; convincing the audience to agree that the little house seems to live and breathe on its own.
In the end, we are left with two marvelous little tales, each pulling at the audience’s heartstrings in their own special way. However, one cannot deny where this story was born, or the individual who brought it to life. As of almost a year ago from this posting’s publication, an article by Judith Rosen revealed that Virginia Lee Burton’s two sons bought back the rights to their mother’s beloved story (Rosen, 2009). I can’t help but feel that the return of The Little House to its rightful place is as momentous of an occasion as Oswald the Lucky Rabbit’s return to the Disney name.
